


A heart made of gold (that I can't steal)

by jijal



Category: BTOB
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, M/M, Polyamorous Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jijal/pseuds/jijal
Summary: Stability turns out to be a lie, and Eunkwang and Ilhoon are left to deal with the rest.





	1. Chapter 1

"I got a few people coming over for dinner tonight."

Ilhoon’s head shoots up from his half-empty cup of coffee. Opposite of him, Eunkwang is reading through his e-mails, work never  _really_  stops for him, not even on Sundays. Ilhoon cocks his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Tonight?" he asks, as if he wasn’t sure he heard right. “Did you forget I’d be here?”

Their eyes meet as Eunkwang looks up at him, thumb now hovering over the screen of his phone. He takes a deep breath and purses his lips for a moment.

“No, I didn’t,” he says, putting his phone down on the table as he shifts in his seat and sits up straight. “I thought maybe it’d be nice to have you here. To not keep all things clear-cut like that.”

Sinking back against his chair, Ilhoon takes a moment to think about it. About how he’s had a feeling Eunkwang might bring up loosening up their rules, _officially_ now, since they kind of have been doing that, anyway; the small changes here and there weren’t immediately obvious and somewhat out of their control, but their relationship has evolved from what it was months ago, even if only in microscopic dimensions. Letting it feel more natural, giving space to breathe and room for change could work out for them in the long run, but Ilhoon has yet to figure out a way to ignore the small voice in the back of his head, warning him that once they take the first big step, God knows how fast things could go downhill for them.

He clears his throat.

“Well, if you introduce me to them… I could do with more funds.”

Eunkwang frowns. “Ilhoon-ah. I told you, if you want more, tell me and I’ll—"

“Hyung, I'm joking. Relax," Ilhoon is quick to appease him, a small, devilish snicker escaping his lips. Eunkwang is way too easy to unnerve. "I'll come if you want me to.”

Eunkwang’s expression brightens in the blink of an eye, and he reaches out across the table, taking one of Ilhoon’s hands in his. At least he’d never be angry about it.

"Be here at six thirty and I'll dress you in the nicest suit you've ever seen,” he says, murmurs almost, and Ilhoon hangs his head, biting back the small smile playing around his lips. He doesn’t need much convincing, but he likes pretending he does.

“Alright.”

Eunkwang’s eyes turn into crescents, and Ilhoon excuses himself to the bathroom to get ready for work now that everyone is happy. He leaves twenty minutes later, Eunkwang wishing him a nice day and asking approximately hundred times if Ilhoon really wants to take the subway to the studio instead of going there by taxi.

What he’d managed to forget about at the kitchen table comes back once he’s staring out the train window as they pass Hangang, the reflection of the sun on the water stinging in his eyes. He replays their conversation inside his head all the way to the studio, restlessly chewing at his bottom lip at the thought of dinner with Eunkwang and other filthy rich CEOs or bankers or whoever it is coming over — it’s the first time they do something together, as a couple for a lack of better words, in the presence of people more permanent in Eunkwang’s life than strangers and passers-by. Maybe it isn’t that big of a deal. Maybe Ilhoon just shouldn’t make it one. But he can’t help thinking _it’s not just dinner_. It’s all the implications that come with it, spooking inside his head to the point where he drifts off and starts work on auto-pilot. He gets his second cup of coffee for the day, greets Hyunsik already tuning his guitar in their small shared studio and sits down in front of the keyboard, but he can’t shut it out, Eunkwang, them, the fact that they’re moving a lot faster than he’d anticipated, and maybe too fast for the two of them to keep up, in the end.

“Ilhoon-ah.”

Ilhoon jumps, Hyunsik startling him out of his thoughts from across the room.

“Sorry. Sorry, hyung,” Ilhoon mumbles, eyes focusing on Hyunsik and the worried expression plastered across his face.

“You’re all over the place today,” he says, his deep voice thick with worry. “Something wrong?”

Ilhoon hesitates. With every bit of information he gives him, the balance he’s managed to keep between shutting him out and telling the whole story, is tipped. And he thinks he shouldn’t risk it while he still has a choice.

“No, ’s nothing,” he brings out, slightly shaking his head, as if that’d make his words more believable. To himself, or Hyunsik, or the both of them. He isn't sure who he's trying to convince.

Hyunsik furrows his brows at the weak response, but he isn’t someone to be pushy about personal matters. Ilhoon appreciates it, but he can’t deny the words tickling his tongue, begging to be let free so he isn’t the only person to have to deal with them. He lets out a troubled breath, buying himself time to sort his thoughts before carefully stringing them into sentences.

“I’m just… nervous,” he brings out eventually. Everything he says thought over at least twice. “The guy I’m seeing is introducing me to a few people tonight.”

“The guy you’re seeing,” Hyunsik echoes. “Normal people would just say boyfriend, you know.”

Were this about anything else, Ilhoon would scoff, try to return the soft smile on Hyunsik lips making clear that he isn’t actually ridiculing Ilhoon for this, but Hyunsik’s comment hit where it hurts most, and Ilhoon can’t come up with a snarky remark for once in his life. He lowers his gaze, unsure what to say, or what to think.

“Why, what’s throwing you off about it?” Hyunsik asks, digging deeper.

“I, I don’t know,” Ilhoon stammers back. Helpless. “It’s the first time we’re, you know. We—we feel serious. Like a couple.”

_And we’re not supposed to._

Hyunsik breaks out into a grin. “You’re getting cold feet, that’s normal. Don’t worry about it too much.”

Ilhoon groans, rubs at his face in despair, and turns back around to the keyboard in his spinning chair. He wishes he could keep just a fraction of Hyunsik’s confidence for himself.

“Change is good,” Hyunsik adds. “Being vulnerable is scary, but if you let things happen, they’ll progress naturally. You’ve been with this guy for almost half a year, he won’t hurt you. Let yourself fall. Okay?”

Ilhoon nods. Talking to Hyunsik is refreshing, getting to hear something other than his own suffocating thoughts, but at the end of the day Hyunsik has no idea what he’s  _actually_  talking about. And that’s on Ilhoon, for being scared Hyunsik might take it the wrong way. Or the right way, and judge Ilhoon for being with someone for their money. It’s complicated, and not exclusively about money, but Ilhoon is tired of justifying his decisions to himself, trying to frame it in a way that won’t make him feel like a heartless gold digger. He isn’t. He simply needed money, more than Hyunsik could lend him at the time, and Eunkwang has a heart too big for his own good.

“Let’s get back to… uhm,” Ilhoon falters, scrambling for the sheet of music he had been taking notes on last to get back to work. Songs don’t write themselves, after all, and while they’re not necessarily behind on work, they should keep up their pace and make sure they deliver when they promised they would.

“Rainy break-up song,” Hyunsik completes his sentence, a gentle reminder.

“Right,” Ilhoon says. “Rainy break-up.”

He nods another time, shoots Hyunsik a tight-lipped smile and picks his pen back up.

He has no idea where he’d be if he didn’t have Hyunsik to keep him grounded, but as things always go with him, Ilhoon ends up leaving later than he’d anticipated, too immersed in the bridge part they’re working on and had planned to finish in one sitting, with the deadline due in a week and the company breathing down their necks. A quick glance at the clock, and reality hits Ilhoon with force, almost knocking him off his feet. His heart misses a beat and he mumbles a quick _sorry_ to Hyunsik and hastily gathers his stuff from around the room.

“Ilhoon-ah,” Hyunsik calls out, having Ilhoon whip his head around, hand already wrapped around the door handle. “Don't forget to have fun tonight.”

“Yeah,” Ilhoon breathes out, a little shaky. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t pull an all-nighter here.”

A breathless chuckle from Hyunsik and Ilhoon’s on his way, sitting on needles all the way to Eunkwang’s flat despite Hyunsik's words of encouragement. He’s greeted by Eunkwang with a short kiss, sweet, so sweet, as soon as he lets himself into the apartment, but he can’t really dwell on it, the overly anxious thoughts forever nagging at his conscious.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re fine. Come.”

The brightest of smiles adorning Eunkwang’s face, he takes Ilhoon’s hand into his and leads him into the bedroom. Spread out on the neatly made bed is a suit most likely worth more than Ilhoon himself, the rich black a stark contrast to the cream-coloured sheets, and visible all the way from the door. One, two, three more steps forward and Ilhoon’s knees touch the mattress, but he doesn’t dare reach out, scared the touch of a finger could ruin the illusion.

"Do you like it?” Eunkwang asks from behind him.

"It looks amazing," Ilhoon says back, struggling to tear his eyes away from the soft, satin-y fabric without a single wrinkle in it. It’s been months of living with Eunkwang in his life, Eunkwang, who doesn't outright spoil him, but who loves surprising Ilhoon with gifts every now and then, on top of what they originally agreed on when they started seeing each other. Ilhoon still isn't completely used to it. He turns around and finds Eunkwang’s hopeful eyes. ”Thank you.”

Eunkwang waves him off. "Put it on. I want to see how good you look in it."

Ilhoon snorts,  _so cheesy_ , but he isn’t someone to deny Eunkwang what he asks for. He takes off his old, worn down hoodie and baggy pair of ripped jeans, and, under Eunkwang’s attentive gaze, slips on the white, thin shirt, the slacks and the jacket that goes with it with care. It all fits perfectly, like everything always does with Eunkwang.

Running his fingers over the collar and the elegant stitching around the seam, he remembers the afternoon Eunkwang took him to the tailor to get his measurements taken, just in case it’d come in handy someday, and how out of place Ilhoon felt. Some part of him liked it, enjoyed it even, being catered to and the centre of attention, but it was so far from what he knows, what he knew to be his life; he’s not sure it’ll ever feel completely right, or normal. Not that anything about their relationship could be considered normal to begin with.

“What kinda people are they, anyway?" he asks directed at the top of Eunkwang’s head, watching him button the shirt all the way up for him.

"I met them at a conference a few weeks ago. It’s all business, but I do hope to get closer with them. Just a little, you know? Could be helpful in the future."

Ilhoon nods along, although he doesn’t really understand too much about what exactly it is Eunkwang does or why he needs to impress people just as rich and wealthy as him, prove that he can cook or that he owns one of the nicest studios in all of Seoul.

“Look at you,” Eunkwang beams at Ilhoon, taking a step back to eye him up, the adoration written all over his face. “You look amazing.”

“Hyung,” Ilhoon whines, the tips of his ears getting hot. “Stop.”

“I mean it,” Eunkwang says, his gaze flickering down to Ilhoon's lips and back up again, closing the distance between them and capturing Ilhoon’s lips with his own. Ilhoon slings his arms around Eunkwang’s neck, pulls him close until there’s no more space between them, and Eunkwang pushes him down onto the bed, knees knocking and his weight on top of Ilhoon. A happy sigh slips past his lips, nipping at Ilhoon’s jaw, and as much as Ilhoon wants nothing more than to lose track of time with him, he forces his brain into activity before they actually do.

“I think this'll have to wait,” he says, earning himself a disappointed whine from Eunkwang, who buries his face in the crook of Ilhoon's neck in protest.

“We’ll have plenty of time after dinner," Ilhoon adds, the smile playing around his lips audible in his voice as he bites back a chuckle at Eunkwang’s antics. “But you’re not even dressed yet, I need to fix my hair, the table isn’t set,..."

“I know, I know,” Eunkwang mumbles.

“And I wouldn’t wanna make a mess in this suit. It’s probably worth more than what I make in a month.”

“You look so good in it, though,” Eunkwang murmurs, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Ilhoon chuckles this time. “Alright.”

Eunkwang lets out another small sigh and gets to his feet, pulling Ilhoon up by his hand and directs his attention to his own wardrobe to pick out his outfit, while Ilhoon leaves the room to set the table in the dining area. He counts five plates and five sets of cutlery Eunkwang must have already prepared beforehand, and Ilhoon arranges them across the big, wooden table, making sure they’re evenly positioned. He wipes five wine glasses clean despite the fact that they came straight out of the dishwasher and puts them down next to the plates as well, takes a peak into the pots on the stove, and casts one last glance over the neatly set, colour coordinated table.

“Do they know I’ll be here, too?” he asks, walking back into the bedroom, where Eunkwang is already fully dressed in a suit similar to Ilhoon’s, and standing in front of the full-length mirror to centre his tie.

“I think I mentioned possible company.”

Their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, and Eunkwang frowns as he notices Ilhoon’s messy hair, turning around and grabbing the gel sitting on top of the drawer. Just enough to coat his fingers, he runs them through Ilhoon’s hair, styling his fringe out of his face and smoothing down the rest in an attempt to make it look at least somewhat neat.

“You done?” Ilhoon asks.

“Yeah, just— let me—,” Eunkwang breaks off, fetching the face wipes from his night stand to get the gel residue off his hands, and, once they’re clean again, starts fumbling with the collar of Ilhoon’s shirt. Ilhoon suppresses the urge to click his tongue in exasperation and lets Eunkwang pull every last wrinkle into place. He’s well aware he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, but he also doesn’t enjoy Eunkwang working on him like a doll. Even if he only means well.

“How are you going to introduce me to them, anyway?” Ilhoon asks, desperate to distract himself from his own growing irritation.

"I'm not sure yet—,”

But Eunkwang’s answer is cut off by the doorbell ringing, his eyes going wide in a mixture of surprise and horror and his grip on Ilhoon’s shirt tightening in panic.

“Looks like you’ll have to figure it out fast,” Ilhoon remarks, and, realising Eunkwang is in no condition to take a joke, “Hyung. You’ll do fine. Go let them in.”

He gets Eunkwang to let go off his collar and nudges him in the direction of the entrance area, and Eunkwang takes a shallow breath, wipes his hands dry on his slacks and hurries out of the bedroom. The sharp beep shrills a moment later, and Ilhoon steps up to the mirror and eyes himself up one last time. He can’t remember the last time he wore a suit, let alone looked as put together as he does right now, but if anything, it gives him enough confidence to survive dinner. He tugs a particularly resistant strand of hair into place, and makes his way to the front door as soon as a mixture of voices fills the usually quiet, peaceful apartment.

He gives a big bow as he spots three men, still busy taking off their shoes and jackets by the door, and makes his way over to Eunkwang, who puts his arm around Ilhoon’s waist and squeezes his hip. Nerves, Ilhoon guesses. He shouldn’t hold it against him.

“This is my boyfriend, Ilhoon."

The words roll off his tongue effortlessly, something like a proud smile playing around his lips, and Ilhoon's dumbfounded, unable to do anything but give a small, affirmative nod at the guests. They introduce themselves one after the other, Changsub-ssi, Donggeun-ssi, and blood rushes to Ilhoon’s cheeks the second the last man’s eyes meet his and he introduces himself. Alternatively, Minhyuk-ssi, his voice laced with honey and his skin burning hot against Ilhoon’s as they shake hands.

Eunkwang asks everyone to follow him to the dining room, and Donggeun makes a comment on the interior as they pass the living room, something about the colour of the walls being reflected in the furniture, and it’s followed by a round of affirmative nods and mumbles, and Eunkwang playing it down like every compliment he gets.

Once they are all seated around the dinner table, Eunkwang loads everyone’s plates with food and they raise their glasses and toast to the evening, to the future, to success. Ilhoon downs half his glass in one go, desperate for anything that’ll let him relax and forget about Minhyuk sitting barely a metre away from him. Luckily, Eunkwang has no trouble doing small talk, the way he asks questions and listens and gives people the feeling their answer is the most important thing in the world making it easy for him to keep conversations going and steer them away from himself and onto the guests. He gets them to talk about their companies one after the other, and Ilhoon stops listening at some point, alternating between sipping wine, stuffing pieces of pasta into his mouth and risking a glance at Minhyuk every now and then.

Sat at the other end of the table, he still manages to catch Ilhoon’s attention just by shifting in his seat or tracing the bottom of his wine glass with a slender finger, seemingly absentminded, but Ilhoon knows better.

“Ilhoon-ah.”

Ilhoon jumps in his seat, tearing his eyes away from Minhyuk at the speed of light and earning himself a shy laugh from across the table.

“Sorry, hyung. What were you saying?” he asks, sitting up straight and doing his best to appear engaged in the conversation.

“Changsub-ssi was asking if you wanted more wine.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry.” Ilhoon puts on a polite smile and shoots Changsub a quick, apologetic look. “Thank you.”

Heat crawling up his neck, Ilhoon holds out his glass towards Changsub and watches him fill it up halfway again. He hadn’t even noticed how fast he’d emptied it, but it also won’t be his last tonight.

“How did the two of you meet, by the way?” Minhyuk chirps in, when Changsub has sat back down. “You’re somewhat of an unusual pair, if I may say.”

“I was in talks for a project with a close relative of Ilhoon about a year ago, and we ended up meeting at the final dinner. Ilhoon luckily decided to tag along that night,” Eunkwang says—lies, really, and gives Ilhoon’s hand resting on the table a soft squeeze.

“And what do you do, Ilhoon-ssi?” Minhyuk directs his attention onto Ilhoon.

“I work, uhm, as a songwriter. Together with a good friend of mine.”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You sing?”

“N—no. We only record the demos, like the guide version for what we write. Once they’re approved by the companies, we sell the songs.”

“Do you work under some kind of management?” Changsub follows up, giving Ilhoon the much needed excuse to look at anyone  _but_  Minhyuk.

“It’s more of a small, independent label. We try to stay away from big corporations.”

“Either way, very impressive. You don’t meet a songwriter every day,” Minhyuk notes. “Any chance I’ve heard a song of yours?”

Ilhoon coughs out a weak laugh, so visibly flustered he wishes for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Uhm, I doubt it. We haven’t had that big of a hit yet.”

“You put so much hard work and passion into your music, it’ll pay off,” Eunkwang says, a reassuring hand ghosting over Ilhoon’s back, and Donggeun butts in and starts talking about his photography. Much like Ilhoon, it started off as a hobby for him, when he had nothing but a shabby secondhand camera and enough time on his hands, until he met someone that would introduce him to someone that might know somewhere he could work full-time and build on his skills. That’s how things go, if you’re lucky, and that’s how they went for Ilhoon, too.

For the first time this evening, he stays focused on the conversation, following Donggeun’s story and tips on how to reach more people and, naturally, possible business partners. It’s not a direction Ilhoon ever wants to go into, but interesting nevertheless, and he can’t really afford zoning out another time.

A few glasses of wine and half an eternity later, Minhyuk, Changsub and Donggeun finally decide to leave. They share their final round of goodbyes, praises for Eunkwang’s apartment and cooking skills, and thank him for the evening just before the elevator doors slide shut. Leaving Eunkwang and Ilhoon to themselves, at last.

Eunkwang gets Ilhoon to forget about the mess left on the dinner table with a promise that cleaning staff will take care of it in the morning, and they make their way into the bedroom. Ilhoon hadn’t noticed how badly he wanted to take off the suit, sighing in relief when he’s down to his briefs. Eunkwang follows, and lies down, lets Ilhoon straddle him and drag his lips across Eunkwang’s neck, pressing soft, sleepy kisses into his skin.

“I might’ave had too much whine,” he mumbles, a slight slur to his words, “but dinner was nice.”

Eunkwang chuckles softly, one of his hands drawing random shapes into Ilhoon's back.

“You liked it?”

"Yeah. ’t was hard not to with company that good-looking,” Ilhoon murmurs into the skin right below his ear. Eunkwang's hands find their way into his briefs, his fingers just about long enough to cup his ass.

"Who did you like?”

Ilhoon's pulled, yanked almost, from his sleepy haze, Eunkwang's finger teasing his entrance without pushing in. He lets out a shallow breath and concentrates on steadying his voice.

“M-Minhyuk-ssi.”

The heat climbing up Ilhoon’s neck reaching his cheeks in record time, he remembers the way Minhyuk deliberately eyed Ilhoon up with that small, almost unnoticeable smirk playing around his pretty, pretty lips, and the way their eyes would meet across the table when no one was looking, his pretty, pretty fingers wrapped around the wine glass. Ilhoon's dick twitches against Eunkwang's stomach, the front of his underwear already soaked, and Eunkwang pulls him impossibly closer, has him trapped between their bodies and Ilhoon’s breath hitch in his throat; he buries his face in the juncture of Eunkwang's neck, his body heat not doing anything to help with the burning in Ilhoon’s cheeks, and digs his knees into his sides.

"Are you just going to come to the thought of him while you’re in bed with me?"

“If you don’t give me something else to think about."

Ilhoon’s barely finished his sentence when Eunkwang tugs at his briefs, signalling Ilhoon to get undressed. He wrestles them off his legs, listening to the bedside drawer being opened and the bottle of lube being flicked open a moment later. His muscles tense up in anticipation when Eunkwang's hands are back at his ass, a cold, slippery finger sliding inside of him with ease.

"Do another.”

A second finger joining the first, Ilhoon lets out a blissful moan at the slight stretch, Eunkwang scissoring his fingers inside of him until his muscles have loosened up enough and he adds a third finger.

“Fuck,” Ilhoon hisses, pleasure shooting through his body and straight to his dick every time Eunkwang pushes in, but he needs control over himself, he can’t let himself give into the urge to rock up against Eunkwang for more friction, or push back on his fingers just yet. He won’t let himself fall apart this easy.

"Okay, enough,” he breathes out, and Eunkwang pulls out, Ilhoon getting off of him and sitting down on the mattress to let him get undressed.

“Condom?” Eunkwang asks, his briefs tossed to the floor somewhere, reaching for the bedside table, but Ilhoon leans forward and takes his hand into his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“No condom," he says. "Just you and me.”

Perhaps it’s impatience, or perhaps it's an overwhelmingly longing feeling to know Eunkwang as humanly close to him as possible, like he wants to make sure he's still—still  _his_  in their own fucked up way, even if he likes to talk about other men and Eunkwang never seems anything but okay with it. It doesn't mean Ilhoon won't feel bad about it afterwards.

Eunkwang's answer is almost lost between the sheets, an  _okay_  so quiet it barely registers in Ilhoon's mind as he coats him in lube. His breath stutters, sinking down on him in one go, maybe a little too fast, too hasty, if the burning sensation was anything to go by. He’s forced to wait for the stinging pain to pass, Eunkwang's soothing hands running up and down his arms in an attempt to relax him, smoothing down the hairs standing up in discomfort.

"Slow," he reminds him, his words soft and reassuring. "Take your time."

Ilhoon suppresses an annoyed groan and counts down from ten to one in his head. Eunkwang would be willing to wait for an hour, Ilhoon  _knows_ , but the impatience growing inside of him won’t let him keep still any longer. He lets out a shallow breath and hopes for the best, moving his hips slowly at first to test the waters, and building up a steady rhythm when his body has adjusted to the intrusion and the tension has left his muscles. The low, satisfied moan coming from Eunkwang, and his eyes fluttering shut as he gets lost in the sensation makes it all worth it, his appreciative hands restless, roaming over Ilhoon’s thighs like he could never get enough of the feeling of Ilhoon’s skin against his own.

“Hyung,” Ilhoon says, “do you think about me?”

“Of course,” Eunkwang says. If he heard the slight tremble in Ilhoon’s voice, he’s considerate enough not to act on it.

“T—tell me what you think about.”

Eunkwang furrows his eyebrows in confusion, or concern, or maybe a mixture of both, and Ilhoon pretends he doesn’t notice.

“I—I think about you, taking me so well,” Eunkwang says, a little clumsy, but Ilhoon appreciates it, anyway.

“The way you don’t touch yourself before I do, you’re so good,” Eunkwang goes on, and it sounds more like a heartfelt compliment than anything else, Ilhoon's chest tightening in apprehension. He leans in, hungry, eager lips against Eunkwang's in a kiss that makes his head spin and his fingertips tingle with the need to touch, running his hands over Eunkwang's chest, down to his toned stomach and up again, feeling the muscles contract under his touch.

One of Eunkwang’s hands wraps around Ilhoon, and Ilhoon moans into Eunkwang’s mouth, picking up speed, rocking up into Eunkwang’s hand slick with lube and precome and sinking down onto him with every roll of his hips. He draws back when it gets hard to breathe, sitting up and tilting his head back, and a string of swear words tumbles past his lips. He digs his nails into his thighs in frustration, but it’s not enough to do anything about the annoying heat in the pit of his stomach.

“I—I’m, I’m close,” Eunkwang brings out between little huffs of air, the small, needy gasps, and the tight grip on Ilhoon’s hips to pull him down onto him telling him before Eunkwang had a chance to.

“I know,” Ilhoon says back. “It’s okay.”

As if given permission, Eunkwang comes a few moments later, a grunt ripping through the air and short, blunt nails digging into Ilhoon’s skin as he rides it out, his head thrown back against the pillow and his hips twitching upwards, meeting Ilhoon's movements halfway and burying himself deeper inside of him. Ilhoon wraps a hand around himself, and Eunkwang’s last thrust sends him over the edge as well, every muscle in Ilhoon’s body contracting as he comes with a whiny moan and he watches the come paint his flushed, heaving chest white.

“Fuck." he breathes out, his hand stilling and collapsing onto Eunkwang, a thin layer of cold sweat coating both their bodies. Eunkwang rests his face against the side of Ilhoon’s head.

“You okay?” he asks, words muffled by Ilhoon's hair, and Ilhoon manages a nod, his breathing slowly going back to normal. The steady rise and fall of Eunkwang’s chest lulls him back into sleepiness, exhaustion already weighing him down by a tonne and doing nothing to keep Ilhoon from drifting off.

The familiar sound of water hitting ceramic seeps into Ilhoon’s brain, and he forces his eyes open. He finds the spot next to him empty, and the room bathed in dimmed, warm light. Eunkwang emerges from the bathroom and his lips pull up into a small smile when he notices Ilhoon’s awake.

“Just gonna clean you up real quick,” he explains before Ilhoon can form the question in his head.

“No, I’ll do it,” Ilhoon mumbles. He moves to sit up, but his body protests. “You don’t have to…”

He breaks off into a yawn, and Eunkwang chuckles lightly. He folds back the comforter and wipes Ilhoon’s chest clean with a warm, dampened washcloth, moves down to his thighs, where the come has already started to run down his legs and probably stained the expensive linen bedsheets. Ilhoon turns onto his stomach and lets Eunkwang wash off the mixture of come and lube still leaking, carefully, in order not to irritate the skin any more.

“Sore?”

Ilhoon makes back an undefinable noise in his throat, somewhere between affirmation and _whatever._ He’ll regret being so impatient at the beginning once he has to get up in the morning, but for now he doesn’t care. Eunkwang leaves for the bathroom one last time, slips back under the covers a minute later, and accepts Ilhoon returning to his spot in his arms with a content, tired sigh and a kiss to his forehead. Eyelids heavy, and Eunkwang carding his fingers through his hair, Ilhoon melts into his touch, ready to fall back asleep.

"You know if you want to see how things go with him, you can."

Ilhoon’s heart skips a beat and he tenses up, his eyes flying open and staring at the wall at the other end of the room. He holds his breath as if it could make Eunkwang forget he was still there, as if he could trick him into thinking he’s dead like an animal in the wild does to its predator. As if ignoring them could make Eunkwang’s words unsaid.

"Think about it until next time,” Eunkwang adds, softly rubbing Ilhoon’s arm. “Okay?”

"Okay," Ilhoon croaks out. If he were any good with words, he’d say thank you, for understanding, for giving space, for being a lot more caring than Ilhoon deserves, or he’d be honest, talk this out and move on with his life, or at least ramble on about the confusing feelings bubbling up when his mind drifts off and he thinks about Minhyuk, or Eunkwang, or the two of them, but he’s too far gone, trapped inside his mind like a prisoner and with nothing, and no one, to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my new chaptered baby is finally seeing the light of day...... who wouldve thought....
> 
> two quick disclaimers: first, updates for this will be VERY slow. i dont have a lot pre-written and let alone the plot figured out. i will try to keep the chapters somewhat consistent in length but its gonna take me some time so dont expect weekly or even monthly updates. i do what i can when i want to
> 
> secondly i know no ones going to complain but therell be kinda a lot of sex in this fic. its a big part of ilhoon's relationships, and thus a great way to establish and explore relationship dynamics as well as the characters and the plot. i dont want to write smut for the pure sake of writing smut, so every sex scene will have some kind of purpose.... and thats that on that.
> 
> tags will be updated as i go along so stay tuned.... and thank you for reading, kudos and comments are highly appreciated ([twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jungsilhoon))


	2. Chapter 2

Weekdays give Ilhoon time to think. For the first time since they started seeing each other, he's happy to leave Eunkwang’s place at the crack of dawn, to walk into his own, small apartment and crash onto his couch for a few more hours of sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open during the taxi ride back to his that Eunkwang paid for, and Ilhoon’s definitely sore, but that, for one, is nothing painkillers can’t fix.

If he had to pick a favourite problem, that would be it. A reminder of last night and the weekend with Eunkwang; Saturday was a lot less exciting, Ilhoon coming over to a cup of Italian coffee and dinner already prepared, dozing off on the sofa to Eunkwang’s favourite drama and falling asleep next to him in the giant king-sized bed, with sheets so soft Ilhoon could swear they turn his bones into jelly. Sunday came and with it the rollercoaster of emotions that was dinner. It was an exception, and even though it ended up being more fun than Ilhoon had anticipated, he values the routine they’ve perfected. It’s easy, it’s familiar, and a comfortable middle between living on his own and sharing an apartment with someone else.

But then again, if he thinks about it too much, it ends up feeling like just another shift done; no matter how natural they feel, the money is always at the back of his mind. Which it doesn't need to be, not anymore. Ilhoon’s music could pay his bills by now, and he won’t have to lose any more sleep over whether he’ll have to move back in with his parents or not, in case things go south.

Life is good, things are stable, and Ilhoon has someone to fall back on if he ever needed to. But old habits die hard, and if money isn’t what holds them together, there must be more to it. More that Ilhoon isn’t sure he’s ready to talk about. And as long as Eunkwang is happy with spending his cash on him, Ilhoon thinks there’s no point in making a big fuss about it. If anything, he finds himself clinging onto the money more than ever. Now that someone else has entered the picture, has managed to dig up feelings Ilhoon wasn’t aware he could have, let alone feels comfortable thinking about, money is the last hint of stability between Eunkwang and him. As Minhyuk threatens to turn his whole world upside down from one second to the next. One sneaky glance from his food up at Ilhoon at a time.

Ilhoon decides it’s in his best interest to try and forget about Minhyuk, and dinner altogether, as soon as possible. To push it away and assure Eunkwang he’s over it when he sees him again in a few days, even if some part of him is more than determined to convince himself otherwise. Something deep inside of him is ready to call bullshit every time Ilhoon tells himself that yes, Minhyuk may be the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on, but that doesn’t make him impossible to erase from his memory. He has met a number of men that stuck with him one way or another, but they were all bound to be forgotten about sooner or later — just like Minhyuk is.

Or should be.

Halfway through the week, he still won’t leave Ilhoon’s mind. He’s there when Ilhoon is at work in the studio, hunched over sheets of music or playing around with new beats on his computer, Hyunsik in his usual spot on the couch, bobbing his head along to whatever track Ilhoon is playing. Ilhoon thinks about Minhyuk’s comment about whether he might have heard a song of his before, and how the mere thought of it made Ilhoon want to shrivel up into a ball and disappear from the table. Whether Minhyuk would like any of their songs, at all.

“By the way, how did things go on Sunday?”

It shouldn’t have caught Ilhoon off-guard as much as it did, Hyunsik asking about dinner first thing on Monday. He should have been ready to be asked about it, but he hadn’t wasted a second thought about coming up with an elaborate story. Maybe he’d hoped Hyunsik would forget about it, or wouldn’t be too interested in hearing about it to begin with. Either way, it was naive to think the topic would never come up again, and Ilhoon mentally cussed at himself as he slowly, ever so slowly, teared his eyes away from the computer screen and turned around to face Hyunsik.

“Uhm… nice,” he let the words tumble past his lips with hesitation. “Everyone was pretty chill.”

“That’s great,” Hyunsik said, seemingly more happy about it than Ilhoon himself. “And everything’s going good between the two of you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

Ilhoon gave a small nod, they fell silent, and he couldn’t help but feel  _awkward_. As if Hyunsik knew there was more to it than Ilhoon wanted to make him believe. A whole iceberg of events and people and feelings and thoughts, merely hiding below the surface.

“Were they, like, friends of him? Or family?” Hyunsik asked, a little careful but genuinely curious. And Ilhoon just wanted him to drop the subject, before he’d be forced to come up with more lies than he was comfortable with.

“Uhm, friends. Yeah,” he mumbled, struggling to hold Hyunsik’s gaze.

Even though he had no problem with lying to him, omitting crucial details here and there to keep up the image of his affair with Eunkwang being a normal, boring relationship, Ilhoon was well too aware that his habit of being vague and hoping minimal information fed to Hyunsik on a silver plate would come back to bite him in the ass eventually. He wasn’t even sure if all the effort was worth it; some days he just wanted to be honest, to come clean about what was actually going on in his life.

“Must’ve been fun,” Hyunsik said. “I’m glad it all went well.”

Ilhoon smiled, nodded again, and that was that. The conversation was over and Hyunsik satisfied with the good news, the two of them sunken even deeper into Ilhoon’s web of lies. They got back to work and Hyunsik didn’t bring it up another time.

It stuck with Ilhoon. How careful and respectful Hyunsik was, and how he didn’t overstay his welcome with him. Granted, it didn’t take a psychic for Hyunsik to understand that Ilhoon doesn’t like to talk about his relationship. But the fact that Hyunsik seemingly just accepted it, no _buts_ or intruding questions, put Ilhoon’s mind at ease. Which isn’t nearly enough of a good justification for testing his luck another time, Ilhoon knows, but he’s desperate. After thinking it over and over and over for days on end, he’d give about anything for a second opinion.

“Hyung.”

Within a second, Hyunsik’s head shoots up, locking eyes with Ilhoon from across the small room.

“Yeah?”

Regret begins to wash over Ilhoon, but patient like he is, Hyunsik waits for him to go on. To ask the question that’s been on his mind for way longer than it should have been.

“What do you think about being with two people at the same time?” Ilhoon brings out eventually, eyes glued to Hyunsik’s face to not miss a single change in his expression. “Do you think—that’s shitty, right?”

Hyunsik cocked his head to side in confusion.

“Do you mean, like a… threesome?” he asks for clarification, and Ilhoon feels the blood rush to his cheeks.

“No. A relationship.”

Hyunsik perks up his eyebrows and his mouth falls open. “Oh.”

He regains control over his face and averts his eyes to the floor as he mulls over it. Ilhoon’s left with nothing to do but stare at the top of his head as silence settles between them, awaiting his answer like a defendant waiting for the judge to announce the final verdict. Powerless, strapped to his seat and at the mercy of Hyunsik as the only one to declare him innocent.

“I think, ideally, whether it’s two or three people shouldn’t really matter, don’t you think?” Hyunsik speaks up after what feels like an eternity or two. “I don’t see why it couldn’t work like any normal relationship.”

“But—but that’d mean you’d be into two people at the same time.”

“You think that’s never happened before?” Hyunsik asks, the amused smile playing around his lips having his eyes turn into crescents. “Love knows no rules. And there’s no shame in the way you feel.”

“Isn’t that just glorified cheating?”

“As long as everyone’s on the same page, I don’t think it’s cheating, is it? If you have good communication and don’t do stuff behind anyone’s back.”

“I don’t know,” Ilhoon mutters, obviously still unconvinced. If only it were as easy as Hyunsik is making it sound.

“It’s definitely not for everyone, but getting to share something so special and intimate with two other people… I think that’s worth a little trouble, just like any other relationship. I don’t see anything morally wrong with it.”

Ilhoon stays quiet, not sure what to say in response. He got the answer he should have wanted, but it doesn’t do anything for him. No wave of relief, nothing to free him of the heavy thoughts and doubts weighing him down; although knowing how Hyunsik feels about it is  _nice_ , and  _comforting_ , it isn’t nearly enough to convince Ilhoon.

“Would you do it?” he asks, and pretends it’s more than his self-conscious, confused mind trying to figure out what the right thing to do is. Like this is all but for himself.

Hyunsik thinks about it for a moment, and nods.

“Sure. If it happens and feels right… why not give it a chance and see where things go?”

Minhyuk is there when Ilhoon leaves at two in the morning to go home and tries to leave Hyunsik’s words in the studio. When he’s lying in bed an hour later, eyes shut tight and his back arching off the mattress as he comes to the thought of Minhyuk’s clear voice and tan skin, burned into his memory, and the buttoned up shirt having left a lot up to his imagination. For better or for worse.

Down from his high, Ilhoon reaches for a tissue on the floor and wipes himself clean, tosses it off to the side of the bed, but he can’t shake that icky, dirty feeling stuck to his body like glue, and the guilt settling heavily in his bones. He lets out a tired huff and pulls his boxers back up, pretends like he doesn’t feel like shit for getting off to Minhyuk. It’s not cheating, he tells himself. It’s not, because he isn’t in a relationship with Eunkwang, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes. No matter how okay with the idea the two of them might be.

It’s not cheating, and Ilhoon should really just go to sleep. He isn’t tired — as far from tired as one can be with his mind going at a hundred miles an hour. But it’s almost four, and he sure as hell won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning if he doesn’t manage to fall asleep anytime soon. An annoyed groan escaping his lips, Ilhoon turns onto his side and forces his eyes shut.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, and every attempt to shut off his mind in vain, Ilhoon gives up with a click of his tongue and grabs his phone from the nightstand. He decides to ignore the ungodly hour, and looks up if anyone, just a single person has the right words to say to him. If only just typing out the words didn’t make himself feel sick to his stomach.

Clutching his phone in his hands, the search results stare back at him like his reflection in an old, rusty mirror. After a brief moment of hesitation, he clicks on the first link and reads through the top posts in the random forum that came up as a search result, but people’s thoughts are as incoherent and confused as his own. For every person saying they’ve been there, there is someone writing it off as indecisive, selfish, or narcissistic, and Ilhoon can’t help but see himself in both of them. He can’t help but feel like he’s torn in half, and there’s no fixing it. Maybe he just _is_ broken, and no man in the world can mend him back together.

Before he’s had time to process things. let alone come to any useful conclusions, Saturday comes and he finds himself stood in front of Eunkwang again, without anything new to work with. With nothing to offer but confused rambling and thoughts he has been desperately trying to string into sentences for days. Once the usual welcome small talk is done, Eunkwang makes Ilhoon a cup of coffee and gets him to sit down on the big, black sofa in the living room. Ilhoon feels the uneasiness already pool in the pit of his stomach.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Eunkwang says, sat sideways on the couch next to Ilhoon, his leg dangling off the couch and his warm gaze fixed on him. Ilhoon lowers his gaze down to his hands wrapped around the steaming, hot cup and takes a shallow breath.

"I think I like him, but I…,” he falters, lightly shaking his head. "I can't—I can't seriously like two people at the same time.”

Watching the swirls of the coffee, the way the liquid moves around as Eunkwang shifts his weight the tiniest bit, Ilhoon wishes he could just get lost in it. He doesn’t want to hear what Eunkwang has to say, doesn’t want to be having this conversation in the first place. He hates everything about this whole situation, and he wants out.

"You have such a big heart. I'm sure there's enough space for one more person,” Eunkwang says, ever so softly. And Ilhoon isn't sure what he was expecting, or wanting to hear all week, but he didn’t anticipate Eunkwang validating his feelings leaving him with that vile taste on his tongue.

He sets the cup down on the small coffee table.

“We agreed to keep our relationship open, and I want you to be as happy as you make me,” Eunkwang continues. “I won’t keep you from seeing someone you like.”

“I know we said—I know, but I don’t think I should. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Ilhoon-ah,” Eunkwang says, sitting up straight. Ilhoon looks up at him at the sudden change of tone, more confident and determined. “Let’s forget about acceptable and normal. Just for a minute, okay?”

And Ilhoon wants to talk back, ask what good that’s going to do, he wants to ask Eunkwang to just  _stop_ , _for the love of God_ , and never talk about Minhyuk ever again. To leave him in the past where he belongs. If only it weren’t for that little glimmer of hope deep inside of Ilhoon, that won’t let him let go just yet. It has him clinging onto it with all his might, unable to loosen his grip.

“There are no off-limits. I just want you to be honest with me, okay?” Eunkwang says, his eyes boring into Ilhoon’s to make sure he has his full attention. “What do you want?”

“Hyung, no, what’s the point,” Ilhoon half-whines, half-mutters, burying his face in the backrest of the couch in a mixture of despair and embarrassment. He knows where this conversation is headed, what Eunkwang wants to hear from him, but he might be asking for too much this time. “What’s talking about it gonna change.”

“I want you to stop pushing your feelings away. It won’t do you any good on the long run,” Eunkwang insists. “Be honest with yourself. Listen to your heart. It doesn’t mean you have to act on it in the end.”

A small, frustrated huff, and Ilhoon slowly turns his head in Eunkwang’s direction, fixating the empty spot of sofa between them. He can only imagine the colour of his cheeks right now, a deep, shy pink accompanying the heat reaching up all the way into the top of his ears.

“I want— I want to be with you. And with him. In—,” he draws in a sharp breath, tries to collect his thoughts. “In a perfect world, it would be you, and him, and me.”

“The three of us?” Eunkwang asks, without a hint of judgement in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ilhoon forces out. No more running away.

“That’s perfectly okay, Ilhoon-ah. Really.”

Eunkwang reaches out and takes one of Ilhoon’s hand into his, running his thumb over Ilhoon’s knuckles, and Ilhoon is about ready to combust from the tension that’s been building up inside of him.

“For now, get to know him, see where things go. And down the line, we could try inviting him over, or something? If everything goes well, and you have a good feeling about him.”

Ilhoon's head is spinning while the world has come to a halt. He can do nothing but nod and hope it conveys just a fraction of his feelings. He’s in awe at how easily Eunkwang talks about everything Ilhoon thinks he’ll never be able to comfortably put into words, not even to himself in the middle of the night, and at his open mind, though he should’ve expected nothing less.

“We don’t have to,” Eunkwang is quick to add, at the lack of reply. “But I’m open to it, is all I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Ilhoon croaks out. He nods again and meets Eunkwang’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Eunkwang’s face brightens in a heartbeat, and he gives Ilhoon's hand a light squeeze.

“I’m proud of you. I know this isn’t easy.”

Ilhoon’s lips pull up into a small smile, as well. “Thank you, hyung.”

Only a week ago, the two of them were living life steadily, set and happy in their routine, in their own little world for two. Although they agreed to not limit each other in who, or how many people, they could be involved with outside of their relationship, Ilhoon had never actually thought he could be pursuing someone else. But Eunkwang seems happy, excited even at the prospect of introducing a new person to the mix. Ilhoon wishes he could just share the enthusiasm.

“I’ll give you his number. Just so you have it.”

The mere thought of texting Minhyuk while lying in Eunkwang’s arms makes Ilhoon feel sick to his stomach, but he lets Eunkwang save the number in his phone, anyway. He might never not feel like shit about it, somewhere deep inside of him, but it doesn’t mean he can’t give it a try. Because Eunkwang is okay with it, and Ilhoon should be, too. There’s no reason for him to feel bad, yet some stubborn part of him won’t let himself believe that.

“Do you think you could… like, like him that way?” Ilhoon asks against all instincts, as Eunkwang hands him back his phone.

“Well, I’m not as head over heels as you are,” Eunkwang says, chuckling slightly, “but I’m not ruling it out. He’s handsome and hard-working, and very charming. Who knows?”

Eunkwang pats the spot next to him, signalling for Ilhoon to scoot closer and Ilhoon complies. He moves over and rests his head on Eunkwang’s shoulder, one of Eunkwang’s arms snaking around Ilhoon’s waist. After what felt like days spent worrying, thinking, and thinking too much, and long, restless nights, Ilhoon dares let go just a bit. He’s safe, and Eunkwang feels like home.

“Besides,” Eunkwang says. “I think you two would get along well.”

Ilhoon’s heart skips a beat.

“Why?”

“Just… he has that energy about him…,” Eunkwang mumbles, the smile playing around his lips colouring his voice. “Especially when he works. He’s unapologetic, in a way. Just like you. Very brazen, but in a good way.”

Ilhoon can’t help but scoff, a surge of happiness bubbling up inside of him and threatening to boil over. He digs his nails into the palm of his hand and buries his face in Eunkwang’s neck to hide the stupid grin creeping up his lips, almost impossible to bite back. He never wants him to stop talking.

“You’re like… two thunderstorms colliding. I think you’d play well off each other.”

"When did two positives ever equal zero?” Ilhoon shoots back, playfully.

“Why would you want to be zero?” Eunkwang asks. “Why not be two?”

Ilhoon hums in his throat in response, almost basking in Eunkwang’s flattering words. They may not mean all that much, but they give him a feeling of normality. It’s a crush, after all. Ilhoon’s supposed to feel giddy and like a silly, lovestruck teenager. Not like a criminal. Next to him, Eunkwang lets out a small sigh and sits up straight, softly dislodges Ilhoon’s head from where it was resting on his shoulder in the process.

“Do you want to text him?”

“What, now?” Ilhoon asks back, dumbfounded. His heart rate picks up, and his hands already start to get clammy, but he doesn’t protest when Eunkwang nods. He grabs his phone, looks for Minhyuk’s contact and opens up a new chat.

"I don't know what to say.”

Ilhoon finds himself staring at the screen, the cute, baby-blue design of the app almost nauseating. His fingers frozen in place, and his head wiped clean of anything to say and start a conversation.

“Just say hi, ask him what he’s up to, if he wants to go out for dinner,” Eunkwang brings him back down to the ground. “He’ll be interested no matter what you say.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Ilhoon types out a message, Eunkwang’s head resting on his shoulder now, as he silently reads along. He watches him delete a line and rephrase it approximately a hundred times, and Ilhoon has never felt this vulnerable before.

“It’s good,” Eunkwang says, once Ilhoon’s fingers have come to a halt and he’s staring at the screen like he just typed it all out on autopilot.

A quick glance at Eunkwang, who gives an encouraging nod, and one last shaky exhale, and Ilhoon hits the send button before he gets a chance to think it over. He puts his phone down as fast as he’d picked it up, his heart about to jump out of his chest judging by the speed at which it’s racing, hammering against his ribcage, but Eunkwang is there to mouth a soft kiss against Ilhoon’s neck, one of his hands finding Ilhoon’s and intertwining their fingers. 

"I'm excited for you,” he murmurs. “Everything will be alright.”

“I’ll go crazy thinking about that damn text all day,” Ilhoon mumbles in response. “Is there a new episode of that weird drama out?”

Eunkwang breaks out into a chuckle and throws his head back.

“Of course,” he singsongs and jumps to his feet to turn on the television. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know like NOTHING happens in this chapter and i APOLOGISE but i didnt want too much to happen too soon either, i hope you understand and that this was still somewhat interesting to read. i shall try and make use of my break and get the next chapter out sooner. thank you, and goodnight
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jungsilhoon)


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